


Matchmaker's Council

by Lady_Juno



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Escapes, Evil Plans, F/M, Female Bilbo, Female Burglar, Fix-It, Gandalf's Magnificent Plans Go Awry, Marriage Proposal, Meddling Wizard, Parties, Plotting, fem!Bilbo, girl!Bilbo, lady!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 16:53:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1655636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Juno/pseuds/Lady_Juno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gandalf knew that unless he broke through Thorin's stony disregard for others, the Quest would fail. Solution: set him up with an appropriate female. Obstacle: Dwarves don't believe females should go on Quests. Solution: make sure the female is necessary.<br/>Task: find a female burglar.<br/>Alternate task: find female--make female into a burglar.<br/>Problem: Female is a terrible burglar and Oakenshield is blind to her charms--or so thinks Gandalf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Choosing

**Author's Note:**

> An exercise in distinct character dialogue. Enjoy.

"No. Too independent."

"You're right. They would tear each other apart."

"What about this one?"

"Too much elvish blood."

"Hm."

Gandalf sipped his tea, leafing through the pages in the file before him. Most were sketches of females, none posed, all smiling. Perhaps that was part of the problem.

"He needs someone he must protect," he grumbled. "These females are all too... competent." Elrond looked up from a series of sketches depicting a human woman in a bakery. The elf lord's eyebrows came together like stormclouds meeting.

"You think he would accept one who wasn't?" There was a pause between them as they both contemplated the question.

"No," Gandalf finally admitted, looking dissatisfied. "But that's a fool for you. He doesn't know what's best for him." Elrond chuckled his agreement and set the baker-lady aside. The pile of rejects was growing ever messier on the far side of the table, and the 'possible matches' stack remained miserably bare.

"So who," said the elf thoughtfully, "would he protect, regardless of competence?"

"Someone who was necessary," suggested Gandalf, "or someone who was in immediate danger, perhaps."

"Think more generally," urged Elrond, and it was clear from his renewed smile that he'd thought of something. "What single attribute calls every male of any age to protect those of the fairer sex?"

"Younger, more vulnerable, weaker?" Gandalf guessed, frowning. He'd never had the weaknesses of mortal men, but Elrond, having been married, possibly had more insight into the matter.

"Smaller." The elf was smiling, almost smug in his triumph.

"But you know he won't willingly attach himself to one he thinks has no use," Gandalf countered, already smiling as he anticipated a new challenge.

"Then give her a use." Elrond closed the file he had in front of him and reached for a much thinner folder. The sketches were sparse in this one, of dwarf-women and one or two curly-haired creatures that he hadn't seen before. Gandalf smiled fondly over one in particular.

"I thought she might show up on the list," murmured the Wizard, touching the sketch gently. One of the curly-haired females, in a garden and up to her elbows in soil, apparently tending a freshly-planted grape vine. Elrond checked the name on the back.

"Billa Baggins?"

"Took-Baggins, once, but her mother gave up the name in order to 'blend in' with her husband's neighbors."

"You know her, then?" Elrond was more than a little surprised. As busy as the Wizard always was, he didn't think that there would be time for such homely creatures.

"Ah, yes. Better than most, as it happens." Gandalf seemed pleased as he leaned back in his seat and reached for his tea. "Yes... I think she'll do very nicely."

"This may seem indelicate," the elf began with a crooked smile, looking remarkably like one of his mischievous sons, "but, what exactly is she?"

"A halfling. Cousins to the Men you adore so." There was a merry chuckle in his tone, and Elrond rolled his eyes.

"You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"But you were there," pointed out Gandalf, clearly quoting despite his teasing tone, "three thousand-"

"Oh, shut up."

 


	2. In Which Thorin Makes a Fuss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf discovers that a compromise isn't always possible. At least, not with Dwarves.

"A _what?_ " Thorin's scowl expressed nothing but the deepest loathing for him, and Gandalf couldn't help but think that if this dwarf didn't get over himself, then he would make a truly miserable king.

"If you are to exercise any sort of stealth, as you agreed was prudent-" Even in his attempt to keep his tone moderate, Gandalf found himself frowning down at the petulant would-be king. He was still young, the Wizard reasoned, but that gave him no excuse to be so... childish. Especially with these constant interruptions.

"Gandalf, do you really expect me to enlist the help of _anyone_ who isn't a Dwarf himself?"

"I assure you that this hobbit is entirely respectable, very dependable."

"That... _Hobbit,_ " growled Thorin, "is not one of us. And no one will say that I allowed an outsider to risk his life for a cause that was neither his concern nor his duty." There was a grumble of approval from the others. The chamber held only the five dwarves that were to lead the quest and Gandalf himself, but each of these admirable warriors deferred unerringly to Thorin's judgement, regardless of his abilities concerning the matter at hand.

"As it happens, Hobbits are experts in the arts of stealth, and while Smaug knows well the taste _and smell_ of Dwarf, he has never smelled Hobbit before." Again, there was a quiet grumble of approval from the others, and Thorin sneered.

"We don't need a stealth expert," he retorted. "I happen to have the best thief in Ered Luin in my service." He glanced at the dwarf two seats to his left, who wore rather large beads in his beard and his hair in peculiar spikes.

"And will you send Master Nori into a treasure chamber with a sleeping dragon, who will undoubtedly waken when he smells his favorite meal?" Gandalf tried not to scowl too deeply. "Believe me when I say that this hobbit you express so much contempt of will be the key to either the success or failure of your Quest. Without the hobbit, all your planning will come to nothing." Alright, so it was stretching the truth a little to say that Thorin _couldn't_ succeed without Miss Baggins, but he needed to ensure that the dwarf would at least look at her before he completely rejected the plan.

Thorin frowned at the tabletop for a long moment before answering, but when he did, it was precisely what the Wizard wanted to hear. "Very well, Gandalf. We'll try this your way. But if the hobbit turns coward, we'll be going back to my original plan."

Gandalf nodded gravely. Not the perfect compromise, but it would have to do for now.

* * *

"Are you blind and deaf as well as addled?" So much for compromise. Thorin's fierce whisper would have carried easily to the campfire if the wind weren't hissing through the trees. "First you tell me the hobbit is a burglar, then you tell me it's fierce as a dragon--she's neither! If that...  _female_ is anything but trouble, I'll eat my boots. I tell you, that hobbit won't last a week. We'd be better off sending her back right now."

The flickering of the campfire attracted Gandalf's eyes, and he scanned the figures around it, engaged in various activities. One tending the ponies, another checking the tack, a couple here pulling blankets from the packs, and over there sharpening weapons. Nearest the flames, an enormously fat dwarf sat beside the smallest of the assembled Company, hardly even half his size. Together, they were preparing a rabbit for the pot. The Wizard could see why Thorin was being so adamant--Miss Baggins was cringing away from the animal, touching it only gingerly. She seemed almost frightened of it, and shuddered violently when Bombur started to remove the legs one at a time.

"Do you not like rabbit, Miss Baggins?" Bombur's plummy voice reached them easily, though her reply was a little harder to catch.

"Oh, no, I love a good brace of coney. I just... it was _alive._ " The implication was obvious. She'd never killed a thing in her life, not even for food.

"Thorin," began Gandalf in a low tone, drawing their joined attention back to the narrow, dark space between them, "I understand your reluctance, but we're only a day's travel from her home, not even out of the Shire yet. Give her a chance to prove herself. If she fails to do so, she can turn back at Rivendell."

"I've told you before, we're not setting foot in that stinking Elf-home. We don't need them, and they don't want us. That's final." The dwarf scowled, but inwardly, the old man smiled. He had successfully distracted Thorin's ire.

"Well then, if she lasts that far, I can turn aside and take her to Rivendell myself."

"I'll not be responsible for her. We're on a Quest to regain our homeland, not to deliver Hobbits to their leaf-munching wetnurses." Thorin stomped off to rejoin his Company, and the Wizard stayed where he was, looking on with pursed lips. The little hobbit wasn't as much like her mother as he'd hoped. That might yet be the death of her, and his purposes for Thorin Oakenshield.


	3. In Which Thorin Asks for Directions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The differences between one little hobbit and one stubborn dwarf are sometimes simpler than a Wizard can figure out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *flails* Please forgive me for not updating anything in a dragon's age! It's NaNoWriMo and I have a job now and I'm a terrible person, please don't mob me. Look, here's humor--a peace offering!
> 
> *hides under a rock*

"You don't know?"

"That's what I said."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"Is there more than one meaning to that phrase?"

"So you really mean you don't know."

"We've established this. Would you like to rub it in a little more?"

"You don't know where we are?"

"Are you done yet?"

Thorin glowered at the hobbit, who still looked incredulous. The rest of the Company were pointedly looking elsewhere, or conspicuously busy with tasks that hadn't seemed pressing until that moment.

Billa glowered right back at him. "Couldn't you have asked someone for directions before you went and got us all lost?"

"And who, Miss Baggins, do you suggest I might have asked? The trolls?" His pointed jab at her first major blunder struck home, and the halfling flinched. She didn't back down, though. Puffing up her chest, she stamped her feet in a peculiar and almost humorous gesture of outrage.

"In case you've forgotten, Mr. High-and-Mighty, there are _twelve other dwarves_  in your Company, and any one of them probably has a decent sense of direction, unlike someone ELSE I could name."

Gandalf wasn't sure whether he should laugh or groan. As amusing as it was to watch the two of them fight, it certainly hadn't been what he had in mind when he suggested to Billa that she might go ask Thorin if he needed help with anything. Still… at least they were talking now. That was _something,_  right?

"I don't need some trumped-up little childling from the Shire telling me what to do!" roared Thorin, and the Wizard groaned, tapping the ashes out of his pipe with a resigned air.

"If you're going to be a leader," retorted Billa, her voice rather shrill, "then you should at least _act_ like one! This isn't just your Quest anymore! If we're going to help you reclaim that stupid kingdom of yours, you have to TRUST us!"

"My kingdom is not stupid!"

"You can bet your hairy face it is! It'll be worth less than nothing if we can't even _find_ it."

A deadly quiet fell over the camp. Even the fire seemed to be holding its breath. Billa, still breathing hard from yelling, seemed to realize then that she'd gone too far. Thorin took a step back, his face unreadable. Slowly, he shook his head, icy gaze still on the burglar.

"Get out of my sight."

"Thorin, I didn't mean-"

"Out." It was a quiet order, but powerful nonetheless. Billa shrank in on herself, hunching her shoulders as she turned away.

Gandalf waited until the halfling was out of sight, then stood and moved toward the brooding dwarf king, who was now staring into the fire.

"She meant well."

"She insulted my kingdom." Thorin's tone was sullen, but Gandalf took this as a good sign. It meant that things might still be repaired. If he'd been angry or betrayed, that would have been different.

"Hobbits don't have kings and kingdoms. You can't expect her to realize the importance of them to those who do." Not that a logical argument ever won anything with a dwarf, but it was worth a try.

"I can expect her to respect me." See? Logic rebuffed.

"Personally, I don't think she'd be here if she didn't respect you."

"Leave me be, Wizard. You've done enough damage already."

Gandalf retreated, grumbling to himself. He had to find a way to make this work. Billa and Thorin _had_ to work as a team, or else the new king of Erebor (if indeed the dratted kingdom was reclaimed at all) would be just as stiff-necked and foolhardy as the last, and everyone had seen how well THAT had turned out.

Lost in his own plans, the Wizard completely missed the hobbit slipping past him to speak quietly with Thorin in an undertone. He neither heard what she said nor saw the look of reluctant acceptance that crossed Thorin's face.

"Balin, come here. I would speak with you." Thorin spread the map on the ground, and Gandalf frowned slightly. Billa was by the fire, helping Bofur cook. Neither of the two pawns in his plan were looking at each other or at him. Stubborn little people. He would just have to whip something up to force them together. After all, there was a time and a place for a little crisis, and who better than a Wizard to make it happen?


	4. In Which Gandalf is Grumpy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is going right. But the Wizard has a Brilliant Idea which couldn't possibly go wrong.

Gandalf was in a bad mood. Not just a bad mood, either, but a terrible mood. Not only had his crisis gone almost completely awry (how was he to know his storm would wake the giants, who would endanger the Company and drive them into a cave, where they would be kidnapped by goblins, separated, nearly killed, and finally driven right into the arms of Azog the Defiler?) but Thorin and Billa were still mad at one another. For one, Thorin had been the one that had dropped the halfling during their escape from the goblins. That had made her upset with him, and for very good reason. Then she had escaped on her own, which made Thorin upset with _her._  (Had he expected her to wait patiently for him to go back and rescue her? Honestly!) And then she'd disobeyed his orders at the Burning Cliffs (Gandalf refused to take any sort of responsibility for that particular disaster). Then Thorin had flat out refused to rest, even though he was seriously injured - that had put a goodly portion of the Company out of sorts, and not just because they, too, were injured. Then Billa had nearly been eaten (by Beorn, as it happened, but that was also not Gandalf's fault) then had turned around and befriended the skinchanger after all of that had been settled, which made Thorin all sorts of grumpy. Gandalf had been hopeful at first, but it turned out (by Thorin's own admission) that this grumpiness was based mostly on the fact that Beorn disliked Dwarves, and Billa had decided to be friendly in spite of that fact.

Now, at the end of a very long and wearisome trek (on the backs of Beorn's sturdy little ponies, thank goodness) Billa and Thorin were bickering again.

"We already left three days sooner than we'd planned - you can't honestly expect to be able to keep going. It's taken us most of the day to get here!"

"All the more reason to press on. We have a few hours of good light left - would you have us waist it?"

"I would have you capable of walking tomorrow when we get up in the morning."

"There's nothing wrong with me. I will travel as long and as hard as necessary to reach-" The rest of Thorin's protest was replaced with a soft grunt of pain. Billa had just elbowed him in the ribs, and she knew perfectly well that Azog's mace had broken several of them. Even the three weeks of rest at Beorn's home hadn't been enough to mend them completely, especially since Thorin had refused to actually rest. In this, at least, Gandalf thought the halfling was justified.

"Will you two _be quiet?_ " Gandalf scowled at the pair, and tried to ignore the horse beside him as it nosed his pockets for treats, thus completely ruining any chance he had at appearing impressive or intimidating.

"Gandalf, what's gotten into you? Got a bee in your bonnet?" Billa was frowning up at him and not looking intimidated in the least. Thorin was still trying to recover from having his ribs jostled.

"There are far deeper and more powerful goings-on than you can realize," Gandalf growled ominously. Really, he was referring to himself and his plans, but the words sounded unusually important in the shadow of the dark, twisted trees. The trees. Gandalf stared at them for a long moment, ideas burning through his brain at a ridiculous speed. Thranduil lived in this forest. Thranduil, who had sworn of any interaction with the Matchmakers' Council ages ago, when his son had come of an interesting age. He hadn't wanted to share the fun of finding a mate for Legolas, selfish snob. But this... this might be too much for him to resist.

"Important business waits for me with the... er.... White Council." Gandalf nodded and mounted his horse again.

"You're not leaving us, are you?" Billa's suddenly panicked tone was more than usually satisfying to hear. The Wizard spurred his horse around to face north. He couldn't let the Dwarves know where he was going.

"Unfortunately, I must. Stay on the path, and don't eat or drink anything you find in the forest." That would ensure they were properly helpless when they reached Thranduil's palace. Yes. This could work out very well.


	5. In Which Gandalf Is Right (For Once)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil learns that Gandalf isn't always just a crazy old coot.

"Define 'not there'." The Wizard scowled at the red-haired Guard captain, while Thranduil lounged on his throne, looking smug.

"It means, Mithrandir, that the halfling you described was not among the dwarves when we captured them." The elf captain's tone, though respectful, carried the lightest hint of frustration. Clearly, she felt that this wasn't at all her fault, and that it shouldn't have been her responsibility in the first place.

"Well, she _must_ have been there! You just didn't look hard enough." Gandalf rapped his staff against the floor in what was supposed to be a stern and commanding manner. It seemed to have the opposite effect, though, and the female captain folded her arms in a rather unconvinced way.

"Perhaps your little… ahem, 'burglar' is more adept than you thought, Gandalf?" Thranduil was half-concealing a smile behind one of his slender hands, a habit that annoyed the Wizard to no end.

"Perhaps your 'Guard' isn't as adept as you think _they_ are," he grumbled, but the elven king didn't seem even the slightest bit put off by this insult. The red-haired captain was, though. While her appearance didn't change but subtly, there was a certain tension in the way she held herself that hadn't been there before.

"We have searched the Wood for a fortnight now, every morning and evening. No creature, living or dead, could have escaped our detection."

"My lord!" Another elf in the green and brown of the Woodland Guard was sprinting up the causeway to the throne. Thranduil sat up, his expression hardening into an appropriately serious frown.

"What is it?"

"The Dwarves, my lord, they've escaped." The elf stopped at the foot of the dais, breathing a little harder than normal. The red-haired captain wore a look of uncomprehending shock that Gandalf found immensely amusing.

"Escaped? How?" Thranduil shot a look at Gandalf, who shrugged innocently. This time, he truly didn't have anything to do with it, and the elf king knew it.

"Through the cellar, my lord. They're in the river."

"Let them go," instructed Gandalf with a smirk, "but make it look good. And count them. If there aren't fourteen in the river, I'll eat my hat."

"I hope you've washed that hat recently," growled the Guard captain, and spun on her heel, calling orders to her men in Elvish as she sprinted away.

Thranduil looked at the Wizard with a new sort of respect, and Gandalf tried not to let his smirk become too obvious. _That's right, Thrandy. I actually knew what I was talking about._  After a moment, the Elvenking shook his head slightly and relaxed back into his throne.

"And you really think this is going to work?"

"Yes. I really do."

"But… why the halfling?"

"Why Billa Baggins? Because it is the deeds of ordinary folk, of love and joy, that best combat the darkness, and hold it at bay. And she makes the best apple pie I've ever tasted."


	6. In Which Gandalf Spies on the Wrong Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf learns nothing of importance and makes plans that are generally unnecessary.

This was absolutely maddening. He had thought it was perfect, absolutely perfect. Billa had caught a nasty cold during their stint in the river, and Thorin had been showing concern. He was, after all, in her debt now. Gandalf lurked in the attic, peering through the knot-holes in the floor as the hobbit sneezed and coughed her way through the first three days of the Company's stay in Laketown. It had been so promising! Then Thorin, for whatever reason, rather than tending to his burglar with his own hands, had sent _Fili_ in to keep her warm and make sure she took her medicine.

Even now, the blond dwarf was in the bed with her, his body curled protectively about her shivering form. Her fever would break soon, and then things would return to normal, but 'normal' had never been the goal of this expedition! The Wizard grumbled into his beard and chewed the end of his pipe, unwilling to light it for fear those below would smell his wonderful smoke rings and suspect.

Stupid dwarf.

Stupid hobbit.

Stupid quest.

Why was _nothing_ going the way it ought to have? Of course, had Gandalf been watching the main commons, rather than the halfling's bedroom, he would have seen Thorin pacing agitatedly from the fireplace to her door, only to be stopped by his younger nephew, who looked exceedingly smug. Kili and his brother had agreed, quite without Thorin's permission, that their uncle was most certainly not allowed to be the one who tended the burglar and nursed her back to health. Why? Obviously;

"Because you're not married yet."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Thorin's low growl was both exasperated and too quiet to reach the Wizard in his attic hiding place. "Neither you nor Fili are married either."

"Yeah, but _we're_ not interested in marrying Billa, now are we?" Kili grinned as his uncle flushed dull red under his beard.

"Shut up."

"Well, we're _not._ "

"I said, shut up."

Kili obeyed this time, but looked intolerably smug as Thorin resumed pacing, grumbling to himself.

Gandalf, having heard none of this, decided that drastic times called for drastic measures. But it wouldn't turn out like the first time, oh, no. There were not to be any orcs or goblins or stone giants about to interfere with his plans! Sneakily, he left the building via a window, a ladder, and two long ropes, making his way across town to pay a visit to the only man in Laketown he could honestly trust. Bard was a bit holier-than-thou when it came to archery, but this was a matter of emergency, and clearly, if the Master's luxuries wouldn't suffice, then the simple ways of the townfolk would have to do.

It was only then that Gandalf learned that Bard had been the man to bring the dwarves into Laketown (the tale of smuggling them in under piles of dead fish had been most entertaining).

"Most excellent, my lad, most excellent. And you will see that the preparations are made?"

Bard glanced at his son and his two daughters, all of which were watching him with eager smiles. Plotting and scheming had ever been a favorite pastime of the young, and he didn't think now would be any exception.

"I suppose I can, sir. But if I may ask a question… is it true that the dwarves go to fight the dragon?"

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous. Fighting a dragon indeed. What do you think they are? Reckless?"

Bard couldn't help but think that folk that rode down white-water rapids in empty barrels were the very definition of 'reckless.'


	7. Celebrations and Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gandalf tries to practice patience, without much success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO MONTHS?! *weeps* Please forgive me! I never meant to let it sit this long! Please please please let me make it up to you with crazy!Wizards and dwarves that may or may not be planning something scandalous. :D Expect rapid(ish) updates on this story--I'm hoping to have it finished by the end of the week. I anticipate another chapter or two before the end.

Lights. Music. Dancing. Food. And alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. No party was complete without it. Well, no party with dwarves involved, in any case. It had taken more than a little wheedling on the Wizard's part to convince the Master and Bard to work together, but when they had, oh, this would be a night to remember. The entire town had turned out for the event, which was being hosted on the shore of Long Lake. The moon was fattening into its last quarter as it rose over the distant forest, and the bonfires blazed merrily as the musicians plucked and blew and pounded out boisterous melodies, celebrating the Mountain King's return.

Gandalf stood at the very outskirts of the gathering, squinting against the firelight to see the stomping, whirling, dancing figures inside the ring of bonfires. This was something of a problem. He hadn't anticipated it being so difficult to observe his dwarves (and burglar!) tonight. He couldn't very well reveal his presence now. He had a dramatic entrance all planned out, and it would be a terrible shame to throw it all out simply because he wanted a closer look.

_Patience. That's the key._

With a sigh, and a distinct wish to avoid patience altogether, the Wizard started to circle the gathering, peering through the shifting, jostling forms within the ring of bonfires. At its center, he could occasionally glimpse the dancers, who were stomping and clapping energetically. Among them, though she was very hard to see, was a hobbit, clad in a dark dress that was just a bit too big for her.

Ranged around at the tables where food and drink were laid out, he could see some of the dwarves, chatting and laughing and singing. There was one, however, that Gandalf couldn't see. Thorin was either very good at hiding, or absent from the celebration.

"You there, young man."

The youth turned, blinking at the old man with a grin. "What can I do you for, Gran'da?"

Gandalf resisted the urge to protest the title and nodded to the boy. "You've seen the dwarves, aye?"

"Aye," agreed the boy with an emphatic nod. "They've got weapons like I've never seen, and their stories are amazing."

"Have you seen their king? The dark-haired one that calls himself Oakenshield?" The Wizard was perhaps a little less than surprised when the boy shook his head.

"Ain't seen no king out here, not yet anyhow. You think he'll be joinin' us?"

"I'd hope so," growled Gandalf darkly, much to the surprised of the young man. The Wizard moved off, muttering to himself. He had not, had NOT arranged this magnificent party so Thorin OakenDolt could ignore it. He had just made up his mind to march back into Laketown and drag that idiot king out to join them, when he heard something that threatened to bring his perfect plans crashing down around his pointy hat.

"Come on, Billa. No, don't peek. It's a surprise."

"A surprise? Fili, don't you think we've had enough surprises tonight?" The halfling was giggling, and Gandalf could tell she'd had some of the wine. That had been the plan, but not with Fili!

"You can never have too many surprises. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere private. Come on, I know you'll like it. Just trust me."

"Will you at least give me a hint?"

"Well… there's a very, very important question you need to answer tonight, and it has to do with a pretty hobbit lass that might be Queen Under the Mountain someday." Fili's tone was all too smug, all too happy about this "hint," which wasn't a hint at all! Gandalf turned toward the voices, the owners of which he was sure were just on the other side of a large pile of firewood--for the bonfires, he thought distractedly. He'd only made it a handful of steps before there was very suddenly something in his way.

"Gandalf!" The frumpy, wild-eyed old man in brown hissed his name, nearly scaring him clean out of his underpants.

"Radagast," gasped Gandalf, shivering as he smoothed his beard. "I don't have time for it, whatever it is-"

"But Gandalf, it's _important!_ " The brown Wizard grasped his arm and yanked him away from the now-fading voices of Billa and Fili. "That thing, the thing you trusted me with. It's gone missing. I can't find it, Gandalf, and it's gone! You told me the fate of the worlds rested on me keeping it safe, and it's _gone_ and I don't know what to do."

Gandalf frowned down at his compatriot, thinking to himself that if Radagast were any loonier, he would probably have been wearing his shoes on his ears and barking like a dog.

"What _are_ you talking about? Radagast, I don't have time for this."

"But, but the stone, Gandalf, the stone!" The brown Wizard's plea made Gandalf pause, and closed his eyes. The stone was of little importance, but it had been a way to keep Radagast busy.

"Where is it, then?"

"In the Mountain."

"In the--how in the name of my horse's rear-end did the stone end up in the Mountain?"

Under Gandalf's angry gaze, Radagast looked sheepish. "I thought it was a good place to hide it."

The grey Wizard groaned aloud. Radagast had never been very good at… well, anything of importance. He had never even shown _interest_ in the Matchmakers' work. It was all about his forest and his animals and his silly sled. Who rode in a sled pulled by rabbits, anyway? The absurdity never ceased.

"And now the _dragon_ has it. Radagast, I'm deeply disappointed in you. We shall have to retrieve that stone immediately."

"How, Gandalf?"

"Well, you can go ask the dragon nicely to give it back. I, in the meantime, have other things that need to be-"

"But Gandalf!"

The Wizard sighed. It was going to be a LONG night. And now… everything was ruined. As the Wizards planned an assault on the dragon to regain a stone Gandalf didn't care about, a Mountain King knelt before a burglar, and a hobbit lass blushingly accepted a token of the heart she'd unwittingly stolen.


	8. In Which Gandalf Fails to Hear the Right Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, if only a Wizard could be in two places at once. Or, more useful, not in this place right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the mucho grande delay. I think I actually forgot that I hadn't finished this story, because when I clicked through my gallery to see what was complete and what wasn't, I was really surprised to see that this one was incomplete. o.o Not sure why I was surprised. I can only assume, it's because I forgot. 
> 
> Without further ado, here's more meddling and hilarity.

"Absolutely not."

"It's what you hired me for."

"That's beside the point."

"That's _exactly_ the point!"

"I said no."

"Thorin Oakenshield, I will not sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you go and get yourself killed!" Billa frowned up at her fiance (the thought still made her blush a little) and put her fists on her hips as firmly as she could. "You hired me for this specific purpose. If you don't let me go, then I'll have come along and risked my life for _nothing._ "

The dwarf king looked stricken at the thought, and the halfling could tell that he thought she was implying his love was nothing. That their engagement was nothing. Her shoulders dropped a little, and her expression softened.

"Thorin, let me do this for you. This one thing. Once you have your rock-"

"Arkenstone," growled Dwalin.

"Whatever. Once you have it, then you can lead your armies into battle against the dragon and have your victory. Right now, right here--this is a time for stealth, and even Nori can't mask his scent from the dragon, even if he is the one that taught me everything I know about stealing." She kept her eyes on Thorin's face, and watched as the dwarf's jaw worked, cords standing out rigidly in his thick neck. It was funny to see his eyebrows tremble as he fought against the urge to scowl at her, but thankfully, the halfling didn't laugh. That would make him angry, and that wasn't helpful when she was trying to persuade him to agree with her.

"I can't lose you," Thorin whispered, and the dwarves who were listening suddenly seemed extremely busy seeing to their meager supplies. Billa sighed faintly.

"You won't. I'll go in, get the rock-" Dwalin interrupted her with a grunt, but Billa didn't pause for him this time, "and come right back. You'll hardly even know I'm gone."

"I already know," Thorin murmured, and looked like he was in pain. Billa touched his arm gently.

"Relax, Thorin. I promise, nothing bad will happen. I won't wake the dragon, and I'll be back as quick as I can."

If Gandalf had been around to hear this particular conversation, he would have abandoned his plans for a dramatic entrance immediately and forbade the halfling from entering the Mountain. This wasn't what was actually supposed to happen. She was _supposed_ to be too ill or injured or weak or frightened or _something_ to actually go in after the Arkenstone, and then Nori would go in, find the bloody hoard was too large for one person to sort through, and take something else instead. But of course, the halfling was insisting on being all _honorable_ about it, and she was on the very precipice of ruining absolutely everything.

But Gandalf didn't hear the conversation. In fact, he thought the Dwarves were still in Laketown. His perception of time had never been accurate to begin with, and nevermind how much he wanted to beat his head against a wall if only to replace Radagast's insane ramblings with a pleasant, monotonous ringing in his ears. It was enough to distract anybody.

As Billa and Thorin settled into arguing over when it was she should go into the dragon's lair, Gandalf and Radagast stood in Thror's treasure hall, looking at the vast piles of precious metals, stones, and other valuable and shiny objects.

"And you're sure that the stone is here?" Gandalf growled impatiently, not at all looking forward to wading through the object of so many unhealthy obsessions. Radagast nodded emphatically.

"Oh, yes. Yes yes yes yes, most certainly yes!"

Wouldn't it be perfectly lovely to push Radagast into the hoard and "accidentally" trigger a small avalanche? Buried alive in gold. A satisfying revenge, even if Radagast hadn't quite earned such a glorious end.

"I hid it in one of the guardrooms, you see--Smaug was too large to fit through the door! I thought for sure he would never find it. But it's been several decades, you see, and when I went to check on it last week…"

Gandalf closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying to banish the beginnings of a dangerous headache. Stupid Radagast, always nattering on about necromancers and darkness and his stupid animals. As if any of that really mattered! He, Gandalf, was serving the Greater Good, planning a brighter future for all of Middle-earth.

"Oh, do get to the point, Radagast. You're rambling again." He tried to keep his tone calm, but was uncertain of his success. He was beginning not to care.

"Oh, sorry. Yes, of course. You see," Radagast pointed toward the hoard with his gnarled staff, "the dragon must have found the stone. I polished it, you see, and it was quite pretty when I was done. Glowed, actually."

Gandalf was about to dismiss this as lunacy, when Radagast's words actually penetrated. "What? Glowed?"

"Yes, yes yes!" The little old man looked very pleased with himself. "Like a giant opal, filled with white and blue fire, bathing all about it in bright starlight. It was no wonder you wanted me to keep it safe."

Gandalf felt a trickle of dread down his spine. That trickle turned to a torrent at the next word that reached his ears.

"Gandalf?!" Billa's shocked voice rang out, echoing impossibly loud in the great stone hall. Could things possibly get any worse? A deafening, chiming rattle of gold heralded a small avalanche, then a large one, and finally, a huge, rust-colored head emerged from the mountains of treasure, less than forty yards from where the Wizards stood.

Yes. Of course things could get worse.

"Who dares disturb my slumber?" demanded the dragon, his impossibly deep voice uncomfortably loud and more than uncomfortably unhappy.

No one moved. No one spoke. The dragon heaved himself out of his golden bed, squinting near-sightedly around the dim chamber. Gandalf wished now that he hadn't decided to light the space with magic. It had been frivolous, but convenient at the time. And even Radagast had been wise enough not to shout and wake the stupid beast.

Well, that was part of the problem, wasn't it? The beast wasn't, in fact, stupid at all. If anything, he was far too intelligent for his own good, and far too talented at strategy for Gandalf to be confident in beating him in a game of riddles.

The grey Wizard glanced toward the stair where Billa had been standing. Gone. He looked around for Radagast. Also gone. Lovely. He was alone with the dragon. Gandalf had only just turned to make his way toward the door when the dragon spoke again.

"There you are!"

Dangit.

In two dizzying bounds, the dragon reached him, and Gandalf turned to face Smaug with the most charming smile he could muster.

"Smaug! What a pleasant surprise. I thought you had planned to sleep for a century. Or did you get up for a drink of water?"

"Very funny, Wizard," rumbled the dragon, his whole body a bristle of scales and spikes and enormous wings. "A more pertinent question would be, why are you in my bedchamber, and is there a good reason not to devour you for trespassing in my home?"

The old man gave a nervous chuckle, and before he could think better of it, caused his staff to emit a blinding flash of light. The dragon reared back in surprise, swiping the knuckles of his wings across his face as Gandalf turned to flee as quickly as he could. He thought, as he sprinted for the exit, that he might have heard a little voice shout his name, but he was a little too distracted to listen properly while running for his life.


	9. In Which Smaug Expresses His Displeasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and Gandalf tries (unsuccessfully) to defend himself.

Billa's headlong flight back out to the rocky shelf where the dwarves were waiting was destined for disaster. She knew that, even as she saw a spark of daylight ahead and put on an extra burst of speed. Time was of the essence. Caution would cost precious moments she didn't have to spare--that _Gandalf_ didn't have to spare. She only slowed as she reached the door, but the halfling's speed diminished considerably faster than she had expected.

Stars burst in front of her eyes as she ran directly into something that felt like a brick wall, solid and unmoving. Half a second later, Billa hit the ground, scraping both palms badly and jarring herself as she tried to stop her fall.

"Billa!" A dark shape leaned over her, and as the hobbit tried to make her eyes focus properly, she thought for one ridiculous moment that the brick wall she'd run into had come to life. She'd heard of trees that walked, but walls?

"What 'appened, lass?"

As this second shape leaned over her as well, but it and the first shape resolved into dwarf-ish outlines. One apparently had scraggly ears sticking out from his head at odd angles, and the other seemed to have a great deal of very dark hair.

"Thorin?" she asked thickly, and tasted blood. The figure with dark hair leaned away a little and raised his voice.

"Uncle!"

As the world cleared and the stars faded, Billa could see Kili looking fit to burst with pleasure.

"You really think I look that much like Uncle?" he asked excitedly. "My beard's really filling out, isn't it?"

"Kili, do yourself a favor and stop talking." Thorin gave his nephew a sharp look and a 'get out of the way' gesture. "Billa, what happened? Is it the dragon?"

The halfling nodded, which sent the world reeling drunkenly again, but she ignored it for now. "The dragon's awake, and it's trying to eat Gandalf. I don't know why he was in there, but he is, and Smaug's after him--we need to help him!"

The dwarves looked at each other in consternation. On the one hand, they were indebted to the Wizard for getting them to the Mountain (in a way, at least). On the other hand, at least half of the Company felt the Wizard had betrayed them by leaving them to flounder in the elves' forest.

"Why should we 'elp 'im?" demanded Gloin, scowling. "I wouldn't give 'im the time o' day if 'e-"

"How can you say that? How many times has Gandalf saved your life?" Billa countered loudly, clearly outraged.

"That's enough." Thorin pulled Billa to her feet. "Let it not be said our Company turns away from our friends when their need is greatest."

That quieted them. Those exact words had been used too many time to describe Thranduil for any of them to have missed the meaning that hid beneath the words. The dwarves gathered their weapons as Thorin looked seriously down at his burglar.

"You'll have to lead us." His voice was low and strained. Clearly, he didn't like this idea at all. "Are you sure you can take us to where the dragon is?"

"I'll do my best." Billa dusted herself off and resisted the urge to spit. From the thick, coppery taste coating her tongue, she knew it would be red with blood, and that would only worry Thorin more.

"But my beard _is_ filling in, right?" Kili was muttering to his brother, who chuckled and patted his shoulder. Billa noted that Fili didn't actually answer the question.

The treasure hall was still lit by that weird, sourceless light, and Billa caught a dwarf or two making signs she could only assume were wards. Odd. She'd known some hobbits were superstitious, but dwarves seemed too practical for that kind of thing.

"She was mine, and you _stole her_ from me!" The words echoed through the halls, making Billa's teeth rattle with its enormous volume. The dragon's roar was so very loud that she almost didn't hear what it was he said, but as Thorin passed her, taking the lead as they followed the noise, the halfling began to wonder. Who had been stolen? Was Smaug upset because there had been someone here, and he had planned to eat her, and then Gandalf took her away?

The Wizard must have answered, but over the pound of boots on stone and her own heartbeat crashing in her ears, it was impossible to hear. The dragon's reply, though, was impossible to miss.

"I don't want to hear your EXCUSES, old man! You stole her, and you will PAY!" Immediately after this venomous speech came the terrifying, crackling roar that could only be dragonfire. By the time that horrendous noise had died down, they were close enough to hear Gandalf's voice as it rose in (maybe somewhat unwise) rebuke.

"She was not yours to keep, Smaug! And after all, I don't think that's quite the point. The matter at hand is much greater than you can imagine-"

Thorin slowed a little, and as the Company drew closer together, they rounded a corner and there was the dragon. Well, there was his hind end, anyway. Smaug was perched, balanced on a narrow bridge, and the majority of his enormous bulk was hidden from sight by his own massive tail and hindquarters. The Wizard, she could only assume, was beyond that tail and on the other side of the dragon. Gandalf's voice, however, was cut off by an angry snarl from Smaug.

"Do not speak to me of your 'matters of importance.' I know what you do, Wizard. You and your little 'Council.' Meddling in the affairs of those you have no business interfering with." Smaug's snarl lowered in pitch until Billa could feel his words through her feet. "I have not lived this long to allow you and your kind to ruin everything."

Thorin was looking at Balin, and the two of them were making tiny gestures with their hands. Billa could only assume they were communicating, but with no time to waste and no idea what they were saying, she ignored them. Slipping past Thorin, she ducked Kili's grasping hand as he tried to stop her and scurried toward Smaug, darting between his legs and under his glittering, jewel-encrusted belly.

"I have every right to meddle," Gandalf was saying, his insulted tone carrying quite well in the vast, empty space around them. "These creatures don't know what's best for them."

Billa stopped, close enough to Smaug's wing-knuckles to reach out and touch his huge claws. The dragon let out a dry rumble of laughter.

"Is that why you brought Oakenshield here, and his little burglar? They smell of blissful ignorance, Wizard. That is your doing, I assume." There was a subtle change in the dragon's tone, and Billa didn't need to see his face to know he knew she was there. Dangerous, but he didn't seem intent on devouring her, so she would just hold very still and wait. From where she stood, she could see the very edge of Gandalf's grey robe, which fluttered, as though he were gesturing grandly (a habit she had noticed he rather enjoyed).

"Oakenshield will be a key player in the future of this world. He may even be instrumental in your life, despite how much he hates you. Without that 'little burglar,' he would bungle everything. The last thing this world needs is another stiff-necked dwarf king." There was a sharp clack, and the end of Gandalf's staff appeared next to the fluttering hem of his robe.

In silence, the dragon lifted his wings. A moment passed before Billa knew what he was doing, and by then, Smaug had pulled himself up onto a higher bridge. That bridge was as narrow and flat as the one the Wizard and hobbit stood on, and had no handrail. What was it about dwarves and handrails? Did they have some sort of long-standing feud? Billa wouldn't put it past them.

But now she lowered her gaze to Gandalf, who looked more than a little stunned to see her. The soft report of heavy boots behind her told her that the dwarves were following her out onto the bridge.

"You stole my woman," rumbled the dragon softly, "and matched her with another. For that, I would tear you apart, and leave your carcass for the crows. Oakenshield is his own, however, and his woman is still here. Who did you steal her from, Wizard?"

Gandalf began to sputter, looking a little flushed as he gripped his staff so tightly his knuckles turned white. Thorin strode past Billa without even a sidelong glance, though he looked a little flushed under his beard. She couldn't tell if he was embarrassed but the anger in his face might have completely hidden any hint of another emotion anyway. A moment later, as Thorin stopped before Gandalf and folded his arm, a heavy hand descended on Billa's shoulder. When she looked up, she could Fili standing beside her, and Kili on her other side. Both of the boys looked defensive, and maybe a touch worried.

"I stole her from _no one!_ " The old man insisted, though he sounded less than sure of himself now. "She came on this quest of her own free will, and I had very little to do with it in any case!"

Billa felt Fili's hand tighten on her shoulder, and she shivered. "He didn't, you know. I mean, I didn't have a… I didn't have anyone special back in the Shire." It was a little silly to worry about right now, but Billa wanted them to know. Fili must have understood, because his grip on her shoulder relaxed slightly.

"And who did the old man steal from you, Dragon?" Thorin's voice was strong and unforgiving. Smaug angled his head toward the dwarf and bared many large, sharp fangs.

"She whom you call 'Galadriel.' She was my heartmate before she met that flower-sniffing, half-breed son of a fish-monger."


	10. In Which Gandalf Makes The Wrong Assumptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smaug and Thorin have their first real conversation!

An awkward sort of silence that fell over the enormous chamber. (Was it a hall? A mine shaft? It stretched well beyond Billa's visual range, and she could see neither floor nor ceiling, and didn't want to think about it much, thank you all the same.) From the way Kili shifted, she could tell he didn't know who this "Galadriel" was, or why Smaug seemed to think they would understand the apparent importance of his words. Billa was willing to bet several of the others were equally lost. 

The halfling knew, though. She had read about the Lady of Lorien and her silver-haired husband, Celeborn. The idea that the fair elven king was the son of a fishmonger was somehow easier to wrap her head around in contrast to Galadriel being heartmate to a dragon. Not that Billa was familiar with the term, but it wasn't that hard to infer what "heartmate" might mean.

"Gandalf-" Billa wanted badly to ask what it was the Wizard did, and why "stealing" women was apparently part of it, but Fili gave her shoulder a hard squeeze. 

"Let Uncle handle this." The blond's voice was hushed and serious. With a huff, the halfling shut her mouth. She found that the Wizard, though, was giving her a pained look, as though she had dealt him the deepest betrayal he could imagine. She had no idea what was upsetting, him, though. 

"So we have both been manipulated by this… so-called Wizard." Thorin's voice seemed practically high-pitched in comparison to Smaug's, which shuddered through Billa's chest as the dragon laughed bitterly. 

"Aye, that we have." Both dwarf and dragon turned their eyes on the Wizard. "What shall we do with him?" 

"Death seems too easy a punishment," said Thorin, somewhat pointedly. The dragon was in the midst of rumbling an agreement when Gandalf seemed unable to contain himself anymore. 

"Thorin, you idiot, can't you see I was trying to help you? You and your stubborn, stiff-necked race! Now you've gone and let the burglar slip away from you and when it all comes to ruin, it'll be  _ your fault _ _._ " The old man waved his staff about, looking quite mad as he shouted at the top of his voice. Thorin turned to look at Billa, who shrugged. She had no idea what the Wizard was talking about. 

"What are you talking about? She's right there."

Gandalf smacked his own forehead, running both hands through his girzzled hair. "Even now, you don't see! She's been stolen out from under you and you're as clueless as a blind rabbit!"

Again, Thorin turned to look at Billa, who looked at Fili, who shrugged. 

"Maybe he's finally lost it," suggested Kili, looking perhaps a touch more hopeful than was strictly polite. 

"Maybe, he never  _ had _ it to begin with," muttered Fili uncharitably. 

"Fili!" Billa turned a disapproving eye on the blond, and Gandalf let out a howl of misery that was quite as unnerving as it was uncharacteristic. The halfling turned toward the Wizard and took a cautious step forward. "Gandalf, whatever is the matter?"

The old man turned on her and pointed violently with his staff. "Are you, or are you not engaged?" He looked wild, his hair sticking out every which way, quivering with emotion. 

Billa felt heat creeping into her cheeks and glanced at Thorin. "Well, yes, I am. But what does that have to do with-"

"To  _ whom? _ " thundered the old man.

"To Thorin, of course, but Gandalf, why is that any of your business?" 

Silence.

The Wizard stared at her, then at Thorin, and even his wild hair seemed to wilt slightly. 

"You're… you're engaged… to Thorin Oakenshield?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

Billa was beginning to feel quite irritated, and frowned up at the man, fists on her hips. "And just who did you  _ think _ I was engaged to?"

There was a long minute of sheepish silence, during which Gandalf fiddled with his staff. "The blond one…"

Billa and Fili exchanged a startled glance, and then Kili started to howl with laughter. Thorin looked livid, and Billa wasn't sure whether her Baggins propriety would allow her to say anything at all on the subject. Sure, Fili was  _ nice _ _,_ but she couldn't honestly say she'd ever thought him attractive (other than the obvious family resemblance… but she'd always had a thing for dark hair). 

It might have taken Billa some time to compose any sort of composure, or to command even a semblance of order among the dwarves, but Smaug's growl restored the previously somber silence.

"I trust you will see to his punishment," he rumbled. " If I find it unsatisfactory, I will proceed with my previous plan." 

Thorin was shaking slightly. "I have half a mind to let you do that, but I think my betrothed would protest." He shot a look at Billa, who shrugged apologetically. Gandalf was a friend, and she didn't like to see her friends torn to pieces and fed to carrion birds. Thorin grunted and continued. "On the other hand, I believe there's a matter of the Mountain to be discussed." 

A tense, eerie stillness fell over the Company. None of them had foreseen this turn of events. They had come to steal from the dragon, maybe fight the dragon, but not to bargain with the dragon. 

"I will take my portion of the treasure, and you may have your Mountain," said the dragon dismissively. "I have grown tired of these walls."

"How much is your share?" asked Thorin warily, and Smaug responded with a deep, dry laugh. 

"As much as I can carry when I leave. It's a nice bed, but the change of scenery will do me good." 

Thorin relaxed slightly, and Billa thought she knew why. Even if Smaug could carry half of Thror's horde when he flew (which she knew he couldn't, just judging by comparative sizes) he would leave behind more than enough to keep the new Kingdom in good repair for a good few years. 

"We could send a small caravan with you, if you were willing to delay your departure," offered Thorin, and Billa stared at him in surprise. Was this even the same dwarf? He had always hated the dragon.

"A tempting offer," admitted Smaug, "but I would prefer to travel at something a little faster than a crawl." 

Thorin smiled, and Billa thought with wonder that he must have known that Smaug would decline the offer. The dragon dipped his enormous head toward Thorin, snorted smoke at Gandalf, and stepped over the rest of the Company, who scrambled to get out of his way. As the dragon disappeared, Dwalin asked why, in the name of the Stone Father himself, they were trusting a dragon.

"That monster killed  _ hundreds _ of our kin!" snarled the hulking warrior.

"Aye. And how do the orcs think of you, then?" quipped Nori, who grinned and stepped out of reach of Dwalin's burly arms. 

Thorin waved at them, as though shooing away a pair of flies. "He's leaving, and that's what matters."

"And if he takes the Arkenstone with him?" Dwalin's gruff demand brought a nauseous expression to Thorin's face, and he turned to look at Billa, who spread her hands helplessly. She hadn't been able to look for the thing at all. Expecting her to have it now was madness. 

"He won't!" A delighted cackle bounced off the walls, seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. 

The dwarves spun in circles, drawing their weapons and glaring into the shadows.

"He can't, because I found it!" 

Billa nearly jumped clean out of her skin as a wizened old man in a ragged brown robe seemed to step out of thin air and up to her side. In his hand, there was a gleaming white stone, like a giant opal lit from within. 

"Radagast!" Gandalf looked thunderous (and seemed to have regained much of his former bluster now that the dragon was gone). "Where have you been? I might have been eaten!"

"But you weren't," replied the coot in brown, smiling cheerfully. Billa noted that he smelled of sod and pine needles and stewed mushrooms. Not like Gandalf, who always smelled like tobacco and horse sweat.

Thorin was staring at the stone in the old man's hand, a hungry look in his eyes. It made Billa nervous. 

"You… have saved me a great deal of trouble," the dwarf king rumbled, and extended a hand for the stone. "Thank you."

"This stone wields more power than any of us can guess," warned the man in brown, and gently placed the stone in Thorin's palm. "Even beyond the importance it holds for your race, that rock holds deep, ancient magic. I would treat it with caution, Your Majesty." 

Thorin's expression registered surprise, then gratitude. He regarded the stone warily now, and slipped it into his pocket. "Thank you," he repeated softly. 

"Now!" Radagast clapped his hands, startling the silent Company. "I believe there are things to be done. You have a dragon to see off, and I have a fellow Wizard to deal with." Radagast leveled a sharp look at Gandalf. "The Council has been abusing their power long enough. A ship waits for you at the Grey Havens." 

"What? But... but my mission-"

"Has little to do with the affairs of the heart," rebutted Radagast firmly. "Naughty little boys that play with fire will get punished, Gandalf. You of all people should know that. Now, go. Manwe would speak with you." 

Hanging his head, Gandalf left them with little more than grumbled complaints. Radagast look pleased. 

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he confided to Billa, smiling broadly. "Playing the fool for them lost its charm years ago."


	11. Epilogue: In Which Thorin Puts His Foot In It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Billa deal with Dain during the wedding feast; by which I mean Thorin grumbles a lot and Billa laughs.

The grand hall echoed with the full-throated revelrie of men, dwarves, and even a small contingent of elves (though not, Thorin noted with satisfaction,  wood elves). Barrel after barrel of beer, mead, ale, wine, and all manner of cordials were rolled into the hall and emptied into the thirsty gullets of dwarves who had traveled more miles than any cared to count. An impromptu tournament had been started at the far end of the hall, the goal of which seemed to be to see who could drink the most and still hold his own in a wrestling match. Even from his seat, Thorin could see Fili would lose his next match, swaying so heavily he could no longer drink without slopping ale down his front. 

Thorin glanced at his wife, and felt a thrill as he thought the word.  _ Wife. _ Just the concept was intoxicating. When he refocused on the hobbit, he found her looking down at her half-empty plate with something like disappointment on her face. Immediately, he worried that she was unhappy with the food, or maybe that she felt ill. The dwarf touched Billa's shoulder, and she turned her head slightly to look at him out of the corner of her eye. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, quietly enough that his cousin Dain wouldn't hear. Dain was a good dwarf and a stolid warrior, but he was also an incorrigible flirt, and would surely take any and every opportunity to steal Billa's attention. And once was more than enough for one day. 

"I'm fine. Just wishing I could keep eating. I'm already so full I feel like I might burst." She eyed him sidelong for a moment longer, then turned to face him. "You're brooding again. What's there left to brood  _ about _ _,_ honestly? Is this about the dragon thing again?"

Realizing that his opinion of Dain must have been showing on his face, Thorin looked away. "No, it's not about the dragon. Don't worry about it, Billa." Then a thought struck him, and he looked at her curiously. "You're full? I didn't know hobbits could get full." 

The way she frowned at him told him that maybe that had been the wrong thing to say. Thorin hastily backpedaled, trying to save face. 

"I meant I thought… you just… you're so good at…." 

"So good at  _ what? _ "

Thorin took a gulp of ale to give himself time to formulate some sort of apology, but before he could say a word about it, Dain's thick, hearty laughter boomed from close behind his chair. 

"Hardly married for an evening and you're already digging your own grave, eh, Cousin?" Dain laughed again, and ignored Thorin's half-coherent protests as he turned to Billa with a deep bow. "He's got rocks for brains, my Cousin has. He's never said an intelligent word to a woman as long as I've known him, and that's most of his life." 

To Thorin's chagrin (and perhaps a little to his frustration), the hobbit relaxed at Dain's flowery words, and even smiled a little. "I can't say I've seen him talk with other women. A quest isn't the greatest sample of dwarven society, I'm afraid." 

Dain chuckled richly. "Too true. My cousin has deprived you. Perhaps, since you've finished your meal, we can tour the Mountain, and perhaps see some of this mysterious dwarven society." Dain offered his arm, and Billa glanced at Thorin, eyes sparkling. 

"A tempting offer," she began, and Thorin's gut lurched unpleasantly as she lifted a hand, but the halfling pushed Dain's arm gently away, "but tonight, I think, I belong with my husband. I've no doubt he wants to make up for his mistake in his own way."

As Dain gave in with good grace, Thorin gathered his burglar to himself, holding her possessively and grumbling softly in his throat. Billa didn't seem to mind. And Dain was a greater fool than he acted is he thought for an instant that Thorin would be letting her go anytime soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really the final chapter I'd had in mind, but what with the recent tax on my time (which stems almost exclusively from my boss' request for me to audit the support articles on the company website) and my own distractable nature, this was the best I could do. *bows* Forgive the sloppy ending, therefore, and if you remind me in a couple weeks' time, I may rewrite this chapter. In the meantime, enjoy the Bagginshield fluff. :)


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